"Well, my lady, until he leans the way into your mind, he will continue to message. I cannot mute him. The karpos will give you extra strength, but I doubt it will stop him once he is taught. And from what Sir Gavin told me, he plans to have your mother teach him."
Surely Mother would not help Achan break into Vrell's mind. Thankfully, Vrell would be able to discuss this with Mother before she had a chance to teach Achan anything.
The journey with Sir Eagan should have been awkward, but Vrell found herself unnaturally calm until Carmine appeared on the horizon and excitement brought her to tears.
She was home!
She rode with Sir Eagan to the front door of GrantonCastle. Anillo stood waiting on the steps. A stable boy took their horses.
Vrell ran to greet Anillo, overcome with joy, but he held up a hand. "If you both will follow me."
Vrell sobered. Mother did not want to make a scene of her return. Could Lord Nathak still have spies lurking?
Anillo led them to Mother's study. Mother stood at the widow overlooking the northern fields, her back to them. She wore a lavender and black gown. Her hair was down, curling in auburn ringlets to the center of her back. As soon as the door shut she turned. Her tear-filled eyes studied Vrell, flashed to Sir Eagan, then back to Vrell.
She lifted her skirts and ran across the room. "Averella, my darling!" She grabbed Vrell in a tight hug.
"Gently, Nitsa, she is wounded."
Sir Eagan's voice softened Mother's grip. She took Vrell's hand in her gloved one, gently kissed her forehead, and turned to face to Sir Eagan. Her bottom lip trembled. "Oh, Eagan. Time has aged you well."
Sir Eagan stared at Mother like a man in a dream. "'Tis kind of you to say so, my lady, though from my eyes, not a day has passed. You are as lovely as ever."
Mother inched closer to Sir Eagan, her lavender skirt swaying like a bell with each step. "You brought her back to me."
He reached out his hand. "I did."
Mother set her gloved one in his. The three of them stood in a line, holding hands. Vrell swallowed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She watched her mother and Sir Eagan stare at each other, wondering, wondering.
* * *
Vrell sucked in a short breath. She had always despised corsets. Having lived as a boy for nearly a year, this one felt horribly tight. It especially aggravated the wound in her side, though her maidservant, Syrah, had taken care not to lace the corset as tight as was proper. Vrell did feel pretty for the first time in ages. Syrah had aired out a green velvet gown with peach accents and had twisted Vrell's hair up on her head and secured it with a gold-beaded caul net.
Vrell stood at the window of Mother's study overlooking the inner bailey. Beyond, she could see the outer bailey and the road leading north from Carmine, edged on both sides by grape vines. It had been three days since Vrell left Mitspah. Captain Tristan Loam's soldiers milled about, anxious, no doubt, for the prince's arrival. Captain Loam had dressed his men in Old Kingsguard capes as a sign of Carmine's support.
Achan and his contingent of volunteer fighters were due to arrive in Carmine today. According to Anillo, the men could hardly wait to swear fealty to Achan and go to war. These were Mother's soldiers, of course, who knew all too well of Lord Nathak's persecution over the years. It would be more difficult to persuade all of Carm to go to war on Achan's behalf.
Vrell had remained hidden since her arrival. Besides her mother and Sir Eagan, only Anillo and Syrah were aware of her return. She had chosen Mother's study to hide in because the secret passages that led out from it took her all over the stronghold. She might spy on Achan's welcome banquet but would not attend. If she were to meet Achan as Lady Averella, more time would have to pass. Preferably enough time for him to marry and forget her. The thought made her teary-eyed again. She had been crying since she arrived home. She was sick to death of tears.
A knock sounded on the door and Anillo poked his head in. "My lady? The duchess asked that Master Bran Rennan be brought to this room."
Vrell tensed and closed her eyes. The duchess. Anillo's use of Mother's title was a signal of a request not to be argued with. Vrell had put off her reunion with Bran Rennan, despite all Mother's urging to speak with him right away. Apparently Mother's patience had run out. Vrell had waited so long for this moment. Now that it had finally arrived, she dreaded it.
She nodded. Anillo opened the door fully. Bran stepped inside, looking strange in the red Old Kingsguard cape. The color matched his sunburned face and made him look red all over. She shook off the critical thought and forced a smile.
Bran looked her up and down, clearly uncertain of her identity. "Averella?"
She nodded.
He crossed the room at a run and swept her into a hug, twirling her in a circle.
Vrell cried out at the pain in her side. "Bran, please. Put me down. I am injured."
He set her down and, holding her shoulders, stepped back and peered into her eyes. He seemed shorter than she remembered him. Or maybe Achan was taller.
"Where?"
"My side. It is a long story."
"We have all the time in the world, my lady." He led her to the sofa and helped her sit. "You're so thin. Are you hungry? I could have Anillo bring a tray." Bran jumped up but Vrell snagged his hand.
"No, Bran. I have eaten. Please sit. You are making me nervous."
He slid beside her on the sofa. He took her hands again, brought them to his nose, and sniffed. "I want to breathe you in. How I've missed you. Is it true, what Prince Oren told Sir Rigil? Were you traveling with the prince?"
"I was."
"Is it true the prince can bloodvoice?"
"He can."
"And Sir Gavin?"
"Yes. He can bloodvoice as well. As can I."
"You, Averella? Why didn't you say so?"
"I only discovered it just before I left."
Bran's smile faltered. "Why couldn't you or Sir Gavin send word that you were well? For so long I didn't know. I begged Sir Rigil to ask Prince Oren, and I heard some rumors, but...Averella, how could you leave me wondering? When all this time you could have sent word to your mother yourself, you had no message for me?"
Vrell saw the hurt in his eyes. She did not know why she had not thought to ask her mother to pass along a message to Bran. "F-Forgive me, Bran. These past many months...I have not been myself. I have lived in constant fear of discovery. My life has been threatened time and again. I have no other excuse."
"You were hiding from Esek and your mother sent you to Walden's Watch. That story your mother eventually confided to me. But then Esek issued a warrant for your arrest, claiming you'd run off with the prince. But others claimed no woman traveled with the prince. Only the Kingsguard knights and his--" Bran's nose wrinkled--"squire?"
"Mother did not tell you I had taken on the guise of a stray boy to aid in my shelter?"
Bran shook his head, and Vrell launched into her story. Bran's expression hardened when she told of how she had spoken to him in the Mahanaim dungeon, then how later, they all stood together in the Council chambers. But Vrell plunged on, anxious to get the whole ordeal over and done with before the fight, for she knew there would be one.
She left out Achan's latest declarations. They would do Bran no good to hear, and they were simply in Achan's mind. It was not possible he felt so strongly about her. Give him a few weeks and she would be as Tara was.
A silly, sad smile and a laugh at his folly.
She finished her story with, "Sir Eagan offered to bring me here, and so I am finally home. All is well."
Bran folded his arms and leaned against the opposite end of the sofa. "So the prince does not know you're Lady Averella Amal? He thinks you're a stray trying to avoid life as someone's mistress?"
Vrell nodded.
Bran's eyes widened. "You lied to the future king?"
She stared at her hands in her lap. "Long before I knew he was the future king. To tell him the truth now would hurt him. I figured
bide my time as Vrell until I could slip away."
"You love him."
Her cheeks tingled. She turned her head, staring at Bran. "Who?"
He released a breath. "Who indeed? I've waited all my life for you to look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"The way you look at one of your hybrid plants."
"Do not speak riddles, Bran. There is no one in this room but you."
Bran fiddled with the hem of his Kingsguard cloak. "You must tell him who you are."
Vrell sighed. "We have been over this already. Why does it matter?"
"Because he can't very well marry a stray, my lady. Sir Rigil tells me he's being pressured to marry. Had he known your true identity, he might have asked."
Vrell huffed a cynical laugh. Achan's plea, fresh in her mind, brought a stab of sorrow. "Why would you think such a thing?"
"Because you're a jewel. Kind, smart, hardworking. I'm sure that even in trousers you would win any man's heart."
"Bran. Be serious."
"Your mother could make the offer. It's easily done. Let the prince decide. All you have to do--"
"No." Vrell glared. "I will not be queen. I did not marry Esek because I did not want to be queen. That has not changed."
"As if not being queen was your reason for refusing Esek. Achan is not Esek. Esek is a snake, my lady. Even his followers attest to that. I like the prince. He's a good man. I can tell."
"I know he is a good man."
"Sir Rigil said he attacked Sir Gavin when he discovered his squire had gone. At first I thought him mad, but now I imagine he was simply madly in love."
Vrell's eyes went wide. "Achan attacked Sir Gavin?"
Bran smirked as if he had caught Vrell in a lie. "Make the offer, my lady."
"Enough!" Vrell scooted to the edge of the sofa and straightened her skirts. "For many months, I have been desperate to get home, to Mother and to you, Bran. To put this wretched experience behind me. I am betrothed to you. I would not pledge my heart to another."
"With all due respect, my lady. I can see you no longer love me."
"Do not be ridiculous. Of course I love you. Mother said she would speak to me after the banquet about our engagement. I am sure she will give her consent."
Bran scooted to Vrell's side, set a hand on her shoulder, and kissed her. She stiffened. His lips were soft and familiar, but she felt awkward, disappointed, and wished he would stop. Was it because they had been parted for so long? Tears welled at her lack of emotion.
He broke away and his brown eyes studied hers. He released a shaky breath and swallowed. "Averella. I would never break my vow to marry you if that's your heart's desire. But I beg you be honest with yourself and me. I don't wish to see either of us married to someone we don't truly love. I'd hate to know you'd forced yourself to keep your vow to me, and I'd hate to have a wife who'd settled for me. Please. Think on it."
She inhaled a shaky breath. "I will consult Mother on the matter."
Bran stifled a laugh and shook his head.
"What?"
"Be honest. If you truly don't know, say so. If you no longer love me, say so. But don't use your mother like a crutch."
"It is wise to seek the council of one's elders."
"Aye, but that's not what you do, Averella. You only seek your mother's council when you don't want to face your own problems. When you don't like her answer, you do as you please. And if you can't have your own way or are too craven to deal with your own problems, you run back to your mother and beg she fix it. That's not seeking her wise council. That's seeking a method to get your own way time and again. You're a spoiled child."
Vrell gasped. "How dare you."
"Yes, yes. How dare I speak truth? The vicious barbarian, Bran Rennan. The man who recklessly tells women what they refuse to hear. Well, hang me if you must, my dear, but at least take a moment to consider what I've said. I fear you will see I'm quite right.
"You secretly love our king to be. I can see it plain as the Evenwall approaching. And the only reason you've stayed a stray-nobody in his eyes was so he could meet you on your own terms." Bran raised his thick eyebrows. "But what now, my dear? Your ploy has failed. Now he catches you in your lie or you never meet him again. My, what a tangled web a spider weaves."
Vrell stood. "You dare call me a spider? What of you and the widow Hoff? Now who is weaving a spider's web? She clearly loves you, but you will not sink to consider a mere peasant when you could marry a noblewoman. Wait and see if things work out with the duchesses' heir first. If not, there is always the widow Hoff."
Bran paled so much he didn't look at all sunburned. "I don't know what the servants have been saying, Averella, but I ignore Gren's affection because of my promise to you. It has nothing to do with my social status or hers. Don't twist this around. You're angry because I'm right. You and I are not meant to be. And it pains me I'm not more grieved. But that's wide of the point. I forgive you, Averella, for loving another. But don't punish me over your lies to the prince. And don't punish him, either."
Vrell pressed her hand to her heart, trying to control her breathing and the threatening tears.
Bran paused at the doorway. "Be warned, he still seeks you, my lady. He has men in the area."
Her eyes widened and she looked out the window, scanning the inner bailey. "Achan is here? Already?"
Bran chuckled. "No, my lady. King Esek. It was rumored you'd come home. His men have been seen nearby."
"Oh." Vrell fell back on the sofa. Surely this rumor had been before Achan had crippled him? If Esek were still alive, would he be a broken man or as much of a tyrant as ever? Would he give up his claim to the throne, or, after all her hiding, would he find her in her own home and take her away?
"Marry Achan, Averella. Be our queen. For you would be a marvelous one."
Vrell glared at Bran. What had she even seen in such a rude individual? "Please go."
"Very well." Bran bowed. "Farewell, my lady."
40
Achan sat atop Dove, his right arm in a sling to keep the pressure off his shoulder. Shung rode on his left, Cole on his right, riding Scout. The procession to Carmine passed several families migrating from the encroaching Evenwall. People carried packs and baskets, led animals, drove wagons, or pulled carts, packed with all their possessions.
Achan now understood his purpose, more than to be king, was to bring Arman's love to the people. Being king was simply the role he needed to complete such a task. But he knew so little of Arman. He had so much to learn before he could proclaim Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echad, Arman hu shlosha be-echad with confidence.
Lord Yarden had been distressed by Esek's attack, apologetic, even, as if he were to blame for Atul being a traitor. Achan had allowed the man to blame himself a bit longer than necessary before explaining about the broken windows in the temple. For a moment he'd feared Lord Yarden might faint, but Shung had spoken, repeated the words he'd said to Achan when Caan had vanished.
"Rare the man whose prayers move the earth."
That had been enough to bring Lord Yarden back, nodding and beaming as if having his property destroyed were the greatest honor to be had in all Er'Rets. Perhaps now he would intentionally never repair it.
The city of Carmine could be seen from miles away in the center of a luscious green valley. Farms and vineyards stretched to the horizon in all directions. The cupola roof on a brownstone tower, as tall as the one on Ice Island, peeked out of a matching curtain wall.
They approached the grounds from the northwest. A simple, six-foot brownstone wall enclosed the vineyards of Granton Castle. There were no guards at the first gate. The procession raised a cloud of dust as it trampled the dirt road. Vines stretched on and on, heavy with bunches of plump red grapes. Achan mouth watered. He hoped he'd get to try some.
At the end of the vineyard, Sir Gavin stopped before a single tower gate at another brownstone wall. A wide moat separated another dirt road--which appeared to circle th
e inner edges of the vineyard--and the three-level curtain wall. The narrow drawbridge was down, but the guard had to raise the portcullis to let them enter.
A group of soldiers clustered on the sentry wall near the tower, looking down on their group. They pointed and chattered. Some cheered. A few guardsmen further down the wall ran toward the tower as if hoping to get a glimpse of the visitors.
Achan considered reaching out to hear what they were saying, but he had a guess. Which one is he?
He kept his head down and spurred Dove along. He, Shung, and Cole rode five pairs back from Sir Gavin. They crossed the drawbridge and entered an outer bailey ten times larger than the one at Sitna manor. Soldiers on horseback wore red Old Kingsguard capes like Sir Gavin's. Women bustled about with loads of fabric or laundry, boys carried wood or led animals, dogs and chickens ambled underfoot, children played games and laughed. The cool tones of a lute drifted on the air. As Achan's men neared, all went silent and stopped to stare.
The procession paused at yet another wall, this gate a double tower five levels high, like two rolls of stone parchment standing on end. More guards stared down from the wall.
Shung's voice pulled Achan away from the guards. "You are downcast, Little Cham?"
Achan glanced at his hairy friend. "I'm tired of traveling, and I know it won't stop until a war has killed many. I don't look forward to the coming months."
"But we do not fight tonight. Tonight we eat grapes and drink wine." Shung smiled. "Perhaps dance as well?"
"I don't want to dance."
"You are missing Little Vixen. Shung does not think she will be gone forever."
Achan hoped that were true.
The horses moved again, under the tall, double tower gate of the inner curtain wall. Inside, Granton Castle loomed, massive, like Mahanaim, only clean. It even smelled sweet. The building sat like two interlocking manors. The front, southwestern section was much smaller. Two narrow towers flanked a set of massive maroon doors, the front entrance to the castle. The western tower stood eight levels high. The other stretched as high as the Pillar. Each had cupola roofs as if topped with gazebos.
To Darkness Fled--Kindle Page 49